Читать книгу Corporate Groom - Linda Varner - Страница 9

Chapter One

“Hold that elevator!”

Reo Sampson registered with shock the gossamer attire of the red-haired woman scurrying around the corner, calling out to him. He quickly stuffed into his pocket the ID badge he’d just found on the parking deck of his building, then threw out a hand and caught the doors that had been about to close.

So what if he was running a bit late today? No man could resist an elevator ride with an angel—assuming, of course, that’s what this woman was supposed to be. The white ankle-length gown that swirled about her with every movement could just as easily costume a fairy, now that he thought about it.

The angel-fairy rewarded Reo’s quick action with a smile of thanks so dazzling he wished for his sunglasses. He noted that the color of her long, curly hair exactly matched the coat of an Irish setter who’d once owned him, and for one brief second he was a lonely tenyear-old again with only a dog for a best friend.

“Thanks... a... million,” she said, panting even as she stopped and turned her back on him, beckoning to someone still out of sight. “Hurry, kids. Quick as bunnies.”

Kids? Reo watched in horror as two...four...six...oh, God, ten preschoolers dressed for Mardi Gras immediately filed around the corner and into view. The woman, who looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, herded them into the elevator, while Reo instinctively flattened himself against one wall of the too-tiny enclosure.

Suddenly they were everywhere, those kids—giggling, whispering, staring as if he were the one in a costume. Reo dragged his gaze from the motley group to the angel-fairy who led them. She met his look unblinking, her emerald eyes glowing with what could only be amusement. So she thought this was funny, huh? Well, Reo didn’t and coolly redirected his gaze to the doors, which slid shut with an ominous thump. At once the elevator began to ascend. Since the woman didn’t punch a destination button, he could only assume hers was the same as his: the twenty-third and topmost floor.

Interesting. There was nothing on that floor but Reo’s own suite of offices and a large conference room.

“Miz Rusty?” A miniature soldier, who sported camouflage war paint and gear, tugged at the angel-fairy’s exotic attire.

The appropriately named Rusty looked down to give the young warrior her full attention. “Yes, Preston?”

“Can we stop on the way and visit my dad?”

- “I’m afraid not.” Her hair swung when she shook her head. “He’s working, you know.”

“How about my mommy?” chimed a pint-size princess with big blue eyes and a glitter-encrusted tiara.

“Oh, she is, too, Amy,” Rusty assured her. “All your moms and dads are. Sampson Enterprises is a very busy place. We’re lucky that the man who owns it is going to let us borrow his conference room for a little while for your Mardi Gras party.”

So that’s it, Reo thought. Miz Rusty was no angel or fairy, but one of the workers in the new day care located in the basement of his building. Reo had heard nothing but good about the place since it opened four months ago. According to Angie, his personal assistant and mother of a precocious three-year-old, the children who spent their days there enjoyed a wide range of special celebrations, one of which must be this Mardi Gras party.

Instantly regretting the whim that had prompted him to give in to Angie’s pleading and loan out the conference room, Reo imagined how it would look once these rug rats finished with it. The plush beige carpet would never be the same, not to mention the walls and drapes. He closed his eyes and pictured cherry punch spills and chocolate handprints.... It would cost a fortune to have the room cleaned and fumigated.

“It was kind of you to let us share your ride. The elevators have been a nightmare today. I think this one is the only one working.”

With a start, Reo realized she talked to him. He felt his face heat. “Er, some kind of electrical glitch, I expect.” One definitely deserving of a quick chat with Maintenance...if he could squeeze it in between retrieving the new tuxedo he’d purchased yesterday, then forgotten to take home, and this afternoon’s golf game, which he hoped would lead to another sound financial investment.

The redhead nodded and Reo found himself wondering if Miz meant Miss, Ms. or Mrs. The sapphire on her third finger, left hand did not solve the mystery since it was mounted on a wide gold band.

“Miz Rusty?” This time it was a sibling of Casper the Friendly Ghost who clamored for the woman’s attention. Clearly these children adored their teacher, who appeared to be patience personified, wrapped in a package sexy as hell.

“Yes, Holly?” She straightened the child’s costume so that the eyeholes helped instead of hindered her pint-size view.

“Are we almost there? This tickles my tummy.”

Miz Rusty laughed. “Mine, too, and, yes, we’re almost there.” She glanced at the indicator light. “Only seventeen more floors to go.”

Thank God, Reo thought, though he had to admit that as children went, this group seemed fairly well behaved. He suspected that Miz Rusty could be thanked for that.

“Only twelve more floors....”

Her voice was easy on the ears—surprisingly deep, a little husky. Seductive with a capital S. Reo marveled that such could belong to a woman with freckles dusting her nose. Sexy getup or no, she had a definite tomboy look about her that said she would probably be more at home on a softball field than in his bed.

In his bed?

Reo nearly choked when he realized the inappropriate direction his thoughts had taken. Highly disconcerted, he made a show of pushing his wire-rimmed glasses back up on his nose and straightening the collar of his tasteful paisley golf shirt.

“Just seven more now....”

Her voice also had a pleasant lilt that suggested laughter, Reo realized. He discovered that he actually liked that hint of mischief, that promise of “never a dull moment.” How odd. As a rule he preferred predictability in a woman—predictability, independence and intelligence.

“Four, and we’re there,” Miz Rusty announced just as the elevator slammed to a sudden halt and total darkness engulfed them.

The jolt threw Reo forward, but luckily not off his feet. He suspected that some of the children weren’t so fortunate. The air instantly resounded with cries and screams of terror, and the elevator rocked in response to frantic scrambling. Reo guessed that Miz Rusty must be surrounded by her panicked charges. Her next words proved it.

“Don’t be frightened,” she as good as yelled. “Everything’s going to be OK.”

As if by magic, the auxiliary power kicked in, bathing the enclosure in a dim, reddish glow that did little to soothe Reo’s own ruffled composure. Quickly he assessed the damage and saw exactly what he expected: Miz Rusty surrounded by ten clinging youngsters. He reached out and punched the Alarm button, rewarded for his efforts by the sound of a bell ringing loudly somewhere in the bowels of his building.

“See there?” Miz Rusty murmured as she alternately patted, hugged and cajoled each one of them into giving her breathing space. “Everyone knows we’re stuck now. I’ll bet that this ol’ elevator will be moving again in just a second, don’t you?” When not one child agreed, she glanced over to Reo, who watched her in silence. “Tell them that this happens all the time,” she ordered, words that took a second to soak in.

“Oh, uh, sure. All the time,” he then blurted, silently adding, somewhere in Shreveport. To his knowledge, today was the first day there had ever been problems with the elevators in his building. He wondered fleetingly if their nonstop flight from the fourth floor had been a clue that all was not well with them today, since that was a first, too. Obviously everyone else in this busy building knew there was an elevator problem today and had utilized the stairs.

“And we’ll be moving again in no time, won’t we?”

“No time at all,” Reo agreed, though he wasn’t so sure.

“See?” Miz Rusty studied the sea of upturned faces that surrounded her and frowned. “Goodness, you’re a gloomy bunch. May I see some smiles?” She waited a second, then tried again. “Preston...gimmee a big grin. Come on now, you can do it...there! Now don’t you feel better? Lauren, you’re next. Big smile...yes!”

One by one she talked them into smiling until Reo suddenly found himself addressed.

“Now it’s your turn.”

“Me?”

“You. I want a great big smile on your face, too, just like this one.” She demonstrated, revealing dimples that were a sweet surprise.

Reo could only stare, speechless.

With a huff of impatience, Miz Rusty reached out and, placing the tips of her forefingers at the corners of his mouth, attempted to help him smile.

Reo, his knees downright wobbly, grudgingly cooperated.

“Thanks,” Miz Rusty said, for the first time looking as if she might be a bit ruffled by their situation, too. But there was only a second’s awkward silence before she turned to her charges and spoke again. “Why don’t we play a game while we wait to get moving? Would you like that?”

Most of her mesmerized companions nodded. Reo noted that a smile or two seemed genuine now.

“How about I Spy? Do you like that game?”

More nods. More real smiles.

“OK. I’ll go first.” Miz Rusty, who was surely an angel, after all, made a production out of looking all around the elevator. Then she said, “I spy something blue, purple and green, all swirled together.”

In spite of himself, Reo could not resist searching the costumes of the children for those three colors “swirled.” He didn’t find them, but did realize that aside from the soldier, the princess and the ghost, he hadn’t a clue as to what these children were dressed up to be. The brunette named Lauren looked as if she’d just stepped out of a harem—an odd choice of costume for a preschooler in his opinion—while one helmeted boy resembled some sort of spaceman or something.

Clearly, Reo was out of touch with the younger set, but he knew that already—from spending most of yesterday on the telephone trying to talk a top clothing designer and her manufacturer husband into joining Sampson Enterprises. There was money to be made in children’s wear. He wanted a very large piece of that lucrative pie.

“Daruelle’s skirt?” guessed a curly headed moppet with sequins on her dress and rhinestones on her earlobes.

Miz Rusty shook her head and smiled. “No, there’s no green in it.”

“Chris’s helmet?”

“No purple or blue in that.”

“Katy’s skirt?”

Miz Rusty laughed and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “No blue or green in that. Look again. You can’t miss it.”

Reo winced in response to a sudden shrill squeal of discovery. At once the harem girl rushed forward and grabbed a handful of his designer shirt. “I found it! I found it!” she exclaimed as she yanked.

In a heartbeat, Miz Rusty stood so close that Reo could smell her perfume. A wave of intense wanting washed over him as she gently disentangled chubby fingers from the fabric.

“You’re right, Lauren. You win!” Smiling an apology, Miz Rusty smoothed his shirt by patting it flat against his chest from collar to belt. “Sorry,” she mumbled, before turning her back on him and hustling Lauren back to the others, a matter of three steps.

Reo thanked his lucky stars that she hadn’t felt the pounding of his heart through the material. As it was, she could certainly see the pulse dancing in his neck if she so much as glanced his way again. Fortunately, she didn’t.

He looked at his watch. How long had they been suspended in time? Ten minutes? Fifteen? It felt like forever, and not because of these harmless kids. No, it was the strain of resisting their sexy keeper, a woman Reo knew instinctively could bring him to his quaking knees.

“Who wants to be next?”

“Let him,” replied the child named Danielle, pointing to Reo.

“Yeah,” agreed Preston, the soldier.

At once all eyes were on Reo. He felt sweat pop out on his forehead and wished for a cigarette, an amazing development considering he didn’t smoke. But on second thought, maybe it was natural. He did feel a lot like a prisoner facing a very observant firing squad. He could only pray the pleats in his khaki pants would hide his current state of semiarousal for that firing squad’s captivating captain.

“Would you like to play, Mr. um—” Miz Rusty reached out and grasped the clip of the lost-and-found ID badge, protruding from the pocket into which Reo had thoughtlessly tucked it earlier “—Brad Turner of the mail room?” She clipped the badge to his collar with a take-no-piisoners smile.

As disconcerted by Miz Rusty’s proximity as he was insulted by the mistake, Reo didn’t bother to correct her. Instead, he just shook his head. He’d never played I Spy as a child. Why should he risk it now when his wits had apparently failed him?

“Please?”

The whispered entreaty gave him goose bumps. Well hell. “OK. All right.”

Disgruntled, Reo took his sweet time picking out what he spied. Finally he came to a decision.

“I spy something...red.”

Immediately he was bombarded by guesses—someone’s shirt, someone else’s vest, shoes or hat. Each time, Reo shook his head in the negative and instructed them to “guess again.” He took great comfort in the fact that none of his peers or employees were around to see him acting the fool for this woman. They respected him. He didn’t want that to change.

“I know! I know!” It was Princess Amy, hopping from one foot to the other in the glee of discovery. “Miz Rusty’s hair!”

“Right!” Unable to resist, Reo stepped forward and reached over the children’s heads to tug on a long lock of Miz Rusty’s hair, which was as silky soft as he’d imagined. She blushed—a response that flattered her and sent his pulse to triple digits—then slapped his hand away. “Good for you. Now who wants to be next...?”

Instead of the chorus of me’s Reo expected, there was silence that loudly proclaimed impatience to be free.

“No one? Does that mean you want to play a different game?”

How did she manage her enthusiasm? Reo wondered, noting her ever-bright smile. He glanced at his watch.

Fifteen minutes they’d been trapped. Fifteen minutes that must seem like fifteen hours to the children and felt like fifteen days to him.

What the hell is wrong with the electricity?

On that very thought the elevator lurched into motion... for maybe half a second. Then it stopped again, so abruptly that one of the costumed children was tossed to the floor. Reo and Miz Rusty moved to rescue him at the same time, soundly bumping heads in the process.

“Ow!”

“Oops!”

Screams of fright became a chorus of laughter that lightened the mood more than I Spy or any other kid’s game ever could. Ruefully Reo set the downed child, who wore a goalie mask of all things, back on his feet and assessed him for damages. The boy, who Miz Rusty called Matt, seemed OK.

Obviously taking advantage of the moment, Miz Rusty clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Looks like it’s going to be another few minutes before we get out of here, so why don’t we sing for Brad? Do you know any funny songs?”

They certainly did, and in seconds Reo was treated to a seemingly endless ditty about great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts. The children sang with the enthusiasm and volume of youth. And though Reo’s ears soon begged for mercy, he pretended to enjoy the serenade—more uncharacteristic generosity that amazed him. Clearly Miz Rusty’s magic was as potent for thirty-five-year-old businessmen as it was for the under-six set, if in a slightly different way.

When that song finally ended, they sang another. And when it ended, others, until a solid hour had passed. Covertly Reo assessed their situation. Plenty of air. Plenty of light—though it flickered threateningly now and then. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that a maintenance crew labored to put the elevator in motion again. He just hoped it didn’t take much longer. The mood aboard would surely take a turn for the worst—

“Miz Rusty...Miz Rusty...?”

“What is it, Chad?”

Chad, dressed up like some kind of animal, maybe a bear, tugged her down to his level and then whispered loudly in her ear.

“Can’t you hold it?” Miz Rusty whispered back, words that elicited a mental groan from Reo. Here it was...the beginning of the end.

“Maybe,” came the not-so-reassuring reply.

“I’m hungry,” piped up Chris, the spaceman.

“And I’m thirsty,” added Sarah of the sequins and rhinestones.

Miz Rusty’s gaze met Reo’s across the crowded elevator. She gave him a half smile that could mean anything and then sighed rather lustily. “When we get to the party, there’ll be plenty to eat and drink. Meanwhile, did anyone bring any of the candy we gave you earlier?”

If anyone did, they weren’t telling.

“I have gum,” Reo heard himself blurt, words that resulted in ten new friends...maybe eleven, judging by the relief on Miz Rusty’s face.

With great ceremony, Reo withdrew the gum and opened the package. He took out five of the seven pieces and tore each in half. After distributing them to the children, he collected the wrappers and stashed them in a pocket, then shared a sixth piece with Miz Rusty. The other piece he put back in his pocket for an emergency... as if things could get worse.

Miz Rusty accepted the sweet with a smile of gratitude and for several minutes the only sound was melodious smacking. The smell of mint filled the air.

“How about a ghost story?” Reo next heard himself say, an idea that surprised him as much as it did Miz Rusty, who gave him a decidedly doubtful look.

“Don’t you think we’re, um, stimulated enough?”

“Trust me,” Reo said, an entreaty she honored with a shrug. He then made everyone, including Miz Rusty, sit in a semicircle and began to recite a time-old story about a less-than-genius grave robber, stolen bones in a box and the ridiculous skeleton who wanted them back. Drawing on memories from one of the few times he was allowed to sleep over with friends as a child, Reo acted out the drama, which ended in a surprise “Boo!” that resulted in squeals and then giggles.

Before the revelry had ceased, the elevator jerked into motion, this time reaching the twenty-second floor before it ground to a halt again. Miz Rusty and Reo reached for the Open Door button at the same time and inadvertently tangled again, resulting in more hilarity.

So it was a joyful group that spilled out of the elevator to be greeted by a maintenance man and two women Reo guessed to be more day-care workers.

“Oh, thank goodness,” one of the women exclaimed, reaching out to hug three children at once.

“Are we in time for the party?” Miz Rusty asked, clearly trying to change the subject. Her hint to downplay the event was apparently well taken.

“Of course you are!” the woman exclaimed.

In seconds the children were herded toward the stairs. The wide-eyed maintenance man, who obviously recognized Reo, darted down the hall as if the hounds of hell nipped at his heels—no doubt to report the incident to his boss. That left only Miz Rusty and Reo standing at the foot of the stairs. For a second they just looked at each other without speaking. Reo tried to see past her irresistible girl-next-door charm to the young woman inside. Was she really what she appeared to be—warm and caring with a dash of mischievousness thrown in?

Apparently...and what a contrast to Colleen, a divorce lawyer he’d originally hired to clear up a family mystery and then wound up dating on and off for the past two months. Cold, unless she thought hot would better serve her purpose, Colleen had at first seemed to be the woman of Reo’s dreams. Then she’d begun to cling and tried to take charge of him.

In retrospect he doubted she’d ever really cared about him as a person, seeing him instead as an asset to her image, a goal to be obtained. As for .that mischievous streak so appealing in Miz Rusty...Reo couldn’t remember the last time Colleen really smiled. Certainly not this morning, when he refused her demand that they attend tonight’s charity ball together.

Reo winced, recalling that ugly, very public scene in the reception area of her law office. Damn, but he was glad he’d finally ditched Counselor Colleen. It felt good to be free again, and he intended to retain that precious freedom for a long time to come.

“You were great,” Miz Rusty said, breaking into his memories. Reaching into a pocket hidden by the folds of her gown, she withdrew a tissue that she attempted to dab the sweat still beading on his forehead.

Reo instinctively ducked her touch. “I, um, just followed your lead.”

She looked surprised by his action—surprised and a little confused.

“Obviously you’re a natural with kids,” he added somewhat lamely, unwilling to hurt her, even though he’d just remembered how much he cherished the single life. It wasn’t Miz Rusty’s fault that she was so sexy. In fact, he doubted that she even knew... which was, of course, part of her appeal.

“Why, thank you.”

She studied his expression for a moment as if trying to do some mental probing of her own. Then her lips slowly stretched into what could only be called a hopeful smile, which made Reo wonder if she saw right through his grown-up cool to the lost boy inside.

“What time do you finish up today?” she asked. “I have a meeting right after this party, but after that I’d really like to buy you a beer for being such a good sport on the elevator.”

Reo tensed. More times than not when a woman he’d just met got friendly it was a matter of the pocketbook, not the heart. Had she picked up on his attraction to her? Was she now ready to make use of it?

“Brad...?”

Who? Oh, yeah. The alias. Miz Rusty thought he was Brad Turner, a peer, which meant she wasn’t after his money at all. How refreshing. So refreshing, in fact, that Reo was very tempted to accept her invitation... vulnerability or no.

Then he remembered he couldn’t.

“I have another obligation.”

“Oh.”

Her smile remained, but he sensed her disappointment.

Reo felt a stab of remorse and, yes, disappointment of his own. At this moment, he realized, there was nothing he’d rather do than spend time with Miz Rusty, who thought he worked in the mail room. They’d find a tavern somewhere where they could drink, dance and get to know each other intimately.

Intimately? He was a hormonal wreck! And, it seemed, an idiot, too. What else would one call a man so obviously eager to jump out of that proverbial frying pan into that proverbial fire? Rattled by his apparent dim wits, Reo quickly changed the subject. “Are you, um,, supposed to be Tinkerbell?”

She shook her head. “Guess again.”

“An angel?”

Miz Rusty bubbled with incredulous laughter. “Not by a long shot.”

At that softly drawled promise, Reo’s brain shut down for good, leaving him a babbling victim of desire. “I—I give up then. What are you?”

“A witch,” she whispered, her mouth quite close to his ear as if she feared someone else might overhear, even though they were now too, too alone.

Reo put his hands in his pockets to keep from touching her hair, her cheek, her—“But witches wear black.”

“Only the bad ones. I’m good.”

I’ll bet you are. Shivering as if someone’s fingertips had traced a path up his spine, he could not resist asking, “What, exactly, do good witches do?”

“Why, good things, of course.”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief. Her smile had returned full force. He could tell she enjoyed this foolish exchange as much as he—God help him. “Can you please be more specific?”

“More specific... Hmmm. Well, good witches cast good spells.”

“Yeah? What else?”

“They break bad ones.”

“And?...”

“They mix love potions.”

Something she’d never need, Reo realized, since that wicked smile of hers was all it took to turn one of the city’s most savvy businessmen—namely him—into a libidinous lunatic.

Time to get the hell out of the Sampson Building.

“Rusty? Are you coming?” The words wafted down the stairs from somewhere above, startling them both.

“Be right there,” Miz Rusty called back, much to Reo’s relief. “Now I want you to repeat after me—”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it, OK?”

Reo nodded cautiously.

“Five, five, five...”

“Five, five, five...” he muttered, so dazed that he hadn’t a clue as to where she was headed.

“Six, three, seven, seven.”

“Six, three, seven, sev—” Her phone number! She was giving him her phone number! Damn. “Six, three, seven, seven.”

“Good. Now say it again so I can be sure you have it right.”

“Five, five, five, six, three, seven, seven.” He’d always been a whiz with numbers—a blessing until now.

“Perfect,” Miz Rusty said, adding, “And remember... my offer to buy you a beer has no expiration date.” With a wave she moved quickly away from him, her skirt billowing out behind.

It took Reo several seconds to recover from the rain check, and by then she’d reached the midpoint landing and disappeared from view. She took with her the sunshine, leaving him in the shadow that was his life these days. Disgusted, disoriented and apparently as weak in the head as the knees, Reo stood looking after her for a moment. Then he slowly turned and trailed the maintenance man down the hall.